


and you stole my heart

by wrongtree



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Object Insertion, Semi-Public Sex, Video Cameras, and it's very light but it's there so, but there are video cameras, the object insertion is only mentioned/witnessed, there aren't any people around for the semi-public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongtree/pseuds/wrongtree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nick is an art curator, louis is a thief. it goes as you would expect it to, some weird stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you stole my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingsoftheimpossible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsoftheimpossible/gifts).



> to start this off, i have to thank [alison](http://www.masturfates.tumblr.com) for her insane amount of work with the exchange. i don't know how i did it, you're absolutely incredible.
> 
> a, without you there would be nothing. thank you for holding my hand and dragging me through this when i thought all hope was lost. this fic was a mess without you, it still is a mess if i'm honest, but at least it's kind of organized chaos. i don't know what i'd do without you. i can't thank you enough for your patience.
> 
> second thanks are to bug, for reading it over and encouraging me, as always. you're my biggest supporter and i owe a lot of this fic to you too.
> 
> and last, but not least, never least, always first, [wade](seancodydirection.tumblr.com) for your absolutely ridiculous prompt: "Some sort of thief/spy AU based on that [craigslist ad](http://24.media.tumblr.com/43c69e20de58e4fda31fb8fce94cb571/tumblr_n28pxbH1zA1rn7bzro1_500.jpg) about the woman sticking a flashdrive in her vagina? Louis as the flashdrive stealer obvs."
> 
> wade wade wade, if i make you laugh even once i'll consider it a job well done. for the rest of it, i'm sorry.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Nick asked, coming out of the ensuite bathroom, condom in one hand, cock in the other.

The fluffy haired boy he’d picked up after his djing gig was squatting at his desk, trying to insert what looked like Nick’s work USB stick into his ass. A hint of worry crossed the boy’s face before he looked away from Nick and bent over a little bit; Nick’s gaze was drawn downward and he watched the boys fingers and the device disappear between his arse cheeks. Before Nick could question further as to what was going on, one of the large books he had borrowed from the museum for research was flying at his head. He wasn't conscious long enough to realize he hit the floor.

//

Nick’s barely through the door of his flat when a voice he knows all too well calls from the direction of his living room, “You’re on the telly, Grim.” 

He sighs. He can’t see him, but he knows that his mooch of a friend Harry is sitting, probably starkers, on his couch with a small mountain of fruit rinds scattered around him. Nick hollers back, “When I told you I put a key under—”

“Yeah yeah, for emergencies, I know. Shh, come here, you’re proper famous.”

Nick sighs again, drops his satchel onto the hallway floor, and makes his way to the living room. As he suspected, Harry’s presence is sprawled across his living area; there’s a duffel bag on one of his chairs, clothes spilling out of it, a small replica of the eiffel tower sitting on its side next to it, a pair of bright red briefs on the back of the couch. A single shoe is against the wall, scuffed and worn at the toe. And there’s Harold himself, who is naked save for some very ratty, nearly see through pants, but has at least got himself covered _this_ time. There are two banana peels and a pile of strawberry crowns on a plate at his feet, which are propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

He knows that Harry's quite used to the rock n roll lifestyle, but sometimes Nick just wants to kick him to the curb and tell him to go home. But then Nick remembers the way Harry snorts a little when he falls asleep sitting up and can't do anything but cover him up with a blanket and let him raid his kitchen, or fruit basket, when he needs it.

Harry smiles up at Nick with bright eyes and says “Look,” as Nick rests his chin on the top of Harry’s head over the back of the couch. Harry pops a grape into his mouth and clicks the rewind button on the remote and oh, yup. That’s a very grainy video of Nick. With his tongue down some boy’s throat, and a hand groping his, still rather impressive, arse.

“Uh.” 

Harry pauses the TV again at just the right moment that a mugshot is up on the screen. And that’s _definitely_ the boy Nick met at the club. The boy that requested songs the entire night and was so curious about what Nick did for a living, apart from “spinning sick tunes, mate”. The boy that brought Nick drink after drink and then blew him in the bathroom after his set, before Nick asked if he wanted to go back to his. Before he shoved a USB stick up his arse and knocked Nick out.

“Impressive handy work,” smirks Harry. Nick takes back every nice thought he ever had about Harry and hopes he chokes on the three grapes that are in his mouth.

Nick walks around and sinks into the couch as Harry starts the news report again.

“ _Nate Austin, 22, is currently the city’s most wanted criminal. Known for a series of art heists, we suspect Austin is after the much anticipated new edition to the National Gallery, he was most recently spotted in a nightclub near the building. The new works are set to arrive on Thursday…_ ” 

Nick kind of tunes out after that, he already knows when the paintings arrive. He somehow found himself working for the gallery out of uni and has heard about nothing but the paintings since they were discovered nearly two years ago. Everyone at work has been trying to get things set up for their arrival for weeks, running around like headless chickens. Nick can't be arsed really, some old dude put paint stuff on a canvas, whatever.

Harry’s quiet as Nick flicks off the telly, burying his face in his hands.

“I can’t believe you got caught mid-moan on national television,” says Harry, breaking the silence.

Another voice comes from his kitchen, “I can’t believe you got caught mid-moan with your hands _on a wanted criminal’s ass_ , legend.” 

Nick nearly jumps out of his skin. “Bleedin’ _Christ_ I’m gonna die before I make it to 30. Have you been here the whole time?”

Harry’s Irish mate, Niall, just laughs as he strolls out of kitchen and flops down onto the couch next to Nick, beer in hand. “Yeah, Haz called me over after he watched this the first time.”

“Fir-” Nick turns to Harry, “FIRST TIME? How many times’ve you watched it?”

Harry has the decency to look ashamed, at least. “‘Bout six? Maybe? The third time I barely made it past ‘wanted’, eh Ni?”

Niall nods as he swallows the beer in his mouth. “Thought funniest videos was on or somethin’.”

Nick puts his face on Niall’s thigh and mumbles against it, “He told me his name was Marcus.”

“He’s a _wanted criminal_ , Grim. Probably got loads of, what'er they called? Aliens. No, uh... Aliases!” Harry reasons.

“I didn’t know,” he cries and feels Niall’s hand patting his hair down.

"S'okay mate. Was he a good shag?" Niall asks. 

Nick whines, "Didn't really get to that part. His mouth was nice." Harry makes a sound of protest that Niall chuckles at. "But when we got back..." realization dawns over Nick's brain and subsequently his face, "THAT LITTLE SHIT. That absolute little shit is gonna steal those paintings." He stands up and starts pacing because he can’t sort out his brain while sitting down.

"What's happening?" Harry asks, looking up from where he'd been poking at his belly button.

"He stole my USB stick, the one that had all the info about the new arrivals at the gallery. Fuck. Which means he knows when they’re coming, what the layout looks like, and exactly how much everything is worth."

Nick thinks back and knows it should have been obvious; the flirting, the interest in the gallery (no one outside of employees and art students care about the gallery, and even most of the employees don’t care), the light in the boy’s eyes when Nick mentioned he'd grabbed the wrong USB stick, had brought the one from work rather than the one with music for his set, chuckling about how awful it would be if anyone saw what was on the one he had while he shoved it back in his pocket. Maybe Nick should have been clued in when the boy begged Nick to open him up long and thoroughly, veiled in compliments of Nick’s long fingers and lines about needing to be stretched to “take that giant cock you’ve got”. He really should have known when he woke up a few hours after being knocked out. Instead, he ate a bag of crisps in front of the telly. 

If Nick had watched the news rather than _Nigella_ maybe he would've at least recognized the boy’s face.

"Well maybe you can catch him before he steals anything?"

Nick laughs, a short and hysterical little burst, "I can't catch a bloomin' professional criminal, Niall."

Harry chuckles and mutters under his breath, "Criminiall." Nick ignores him.

"Well, you know everything that's on that USB, right? Just make sure little parts of the plan are different to throw him off." Niall shrugs and makes off to the kitchen again.

"Did you know he was an evil genius?" Nick asks Harry. He doesn't get a response and turns to see Harry counting the hairs in his armpit. "I guess one of you had to be." He sighs again. 

//

By the arrival date on Thursday, Nick has only managed to make everyone at work think he's a complete and total nutter. On Tuesday he suggested they change the date, for which he was simply laughed at. He asked if they could change the time on Wednesday. “Unless they get lost, that’s not happening,” his boss told him.

When he gets to work on Thursday morning he tries to convince his boss to put the paintings in a different section of the gallery. “What is this about, Nick?” 

He shrugs. “Just extra safety precautions or sommat?”

“We’ve really got it under control. Now, haven’t you got kiddos to talk to today?”

Nick slumps his shoulders. “Mammoths, bloody mammoths, they’re dead! ‘o cares?”

“The dead mammoths pay you, Grimmy. Now go pretend that you love them.” 

(When Nick told Harry he’d been tasked with the very difficult job of giving tours of the Wooly Mammoth exhibit (“I just don’t understand, Haz. It’s a _gallery_ why are we getting Mammoths?” Nick had mused), Harry nearly laughed himself sick. “Willy Mammoths,” he had muttered. “Yeah it sounds like a difficult _tusk_ for you.” For which Nick threw a potato at him.)

As a last ditch effort, Nick offers to take a night security watch. As much as he wants to go home and drink an entire bottle of wine on his own after he gets asked about mammoth dongs by more than six kids and a chaperone, he doesn’t. 

He seeks out his boss and says he wants to help with the first night watch.

His boss throws her hand to her hip but doesn’t look up from her phone. “We’ve been trying to get you on board with this for nearly a year, Nick. Why the sudden interest?”

“Just want you to know how commited to my job I am, ma’am.” He adds a big smile at the end for emphasis.

She laughs, “You’re full of shit. Go home.”

She turns to walk away but can't because Nick grabs at her arm. "Let me help. Someone's going to try and steal the painting and it might possibly be my fault." He runs a hand through his hair and scratches the back of his neck, looking down at the floor.

Nick explains the G rated version of events, about the USB mix up and the boy and the news report, and gets yelled at for about ten minutes straight. By the time his boss is out of breath and says he has no choice but to take a night shift, he doesn't feel like he got his wish at all.

//

Nick's only ever been in the gallery at night once before, when he was about nine; he'd gone with his parents and sister when she visited from uni. There was a neon lights exhibit on and he'd gotten a little lost in the glow, letting go of his mother's hand to get a closer look at the lights. He'd been found in a corner a few hours later, crying and clutching onto his knees.

The gallery doesn't look so different now, just fewer glowing lights. The layout has changed a little, walls added to accommodate new pieces and create a sense of mystery, but it’s still familiar to Nick.

Two minutes into his shift and Nick remembers exactly why he’s never done the security night shift before, it’s boring as hell. He can’t talk to anyone because the portraits don’t speak back, and there’s nothing to do but walk around in circles. He does two rounds of the floor, pausing to shine his torch light at different things like he’s in a spy movie, before he hears a noise.

“‘Ello?” He calls. He imagines that if the portraits _could_ talk they’d tell him he’s being daft, that anyone in the gallery so late- and illegally- wouldn’t respond.

Nick walks around the corner where the new paintings hang and there, standing in a patch of moonlight in front of it, is the boy from the club, the boy off the telly, the thief.

He’s dressed in all black, a jumper high up on his neck, tight black jeans that show off his calf muscles, dirty shoes on his feet, and is staring at the painting with one hand on his hip and the other on his chin, contemplating. He’s standing in such a way that the moonlight creates a high contrast on his face, sharp cheekbones and jawline pronounced in their shadows. He looks like he belongs in the gallery too, on the walls instead of in front of them.

“You wouldn’t dare try and fit _that_ up your arse,” Nick says into the silence.

The boy doesn’t even flinch, though Nick must have startled him in the darkness of the otherwise empty gallery room, “Mmmm, kinda would.” Nick doesn’t know how to respond to that, and the gallery sounds extra quiet since they’ve both spoken. The weird silence is broken by the boy, “I was kind of hoping you'd be here."

"You were hoping I'd catch you?" Nick asks, astounded. "You're a criminal, Austin."

The boy laughs and turns to face Nick; his eyes flash bright blue in the moonlight for just a second before his body and the curve of his arse are silhouetted. "That's not actually my name you know."

"That's what they said on the news though! And last time I met you you had a different name anyway. You’ve just been ‘Stealy McThief Pants’ in my head for weeks." 

The corner of the boy’s mouth quirks up as he turns around to face the painting again. He stares at the painting and then whispers very quietly, "Louis. My actual name is Louis."

"I'm just supposed to believe that, am I?"

"Don't you believe in second chances?"

"Don't know if I believe anything out of your mouth, short arse." Nick muses.

Nick blinks and in the seconds it takes to open his eyes again Louis is standing directly in front of him, looking down. He's taken aback for a second before he realizes that Louis has procured a step stool, seemingly out of thin air (but with this kid, anything is possible) to give himself some extra height.

"You didn't seem to think me arse was so bad when you were moaning into it!" He yells, jabbing a finger into Nick's chest.

Nick wraps his hand around Louis’ tiny finger. "Oh calm down, small one. I’m just gonna make a little texty texty and we'll be all done here."

His first mistake may have been reaching for his phone in such close proximity to Louis, who launches himself from the stool and onto Nick. He latches his arms over Nick's shoulders and smashes their mouths together (literally, Nick actually feels Louis’ teeth clink against his for a painful moment).

Nick's second mistake is kissing Louis back. He drops his phone out of shock and immediately grabs onto Louis' ass when the boy brings his legs up around Nick’s waist. It's partly to try and keep their balance as they move steadily backwards, and partly because it's a good god damn ass. His phone smashes onto the floor and he whines into Louis' mouth when he sees moonlight glimmer off the broken pieces lying on the ground.

Louis is quick with his tongue, flicking into Nick's mouth as soon as Nick parts his lips for a breath. He gasps when their momentum drives them into a wall. Louis takes the last bit of leverage to grind his pelvis into Nick's stomach.

"You're a fucking twat," Louis breathes.

Nick sighs and holds tighter to Louis. "Glad you're so small that I can do this." he says as he spins them around. He trips over his own toes and forces Louis roughly against the wall

Louis bites down onto his neck and wiggles out of Nick's grasp, planting his feet firmly on the ground. "Stop commenting on my fucking height, just because you're a god damn giant!"

"Should see my mate Greg, actually. He's the giant if anything. Never seen anything funnier than him trying to get into one of those kiddy swings. We got a bit drunk after a work do and thought it would be--"

Louis maneuvers them around and shoves Nick into the wall in retaliation as he kisses him again. "Fucking _Christ_ , do you ever shut up?" He asks, nipping along Nick's lips as he does. 

Nick slips a leg between Louis' and groans when Louis presses back. For all their banter and Louis’ defiantness, Nick's almost surprised when he finds out Louis is-

"Hard?" He asks, trying to push Louis away to see for himself, to make sure he isn't imagining the press of Louis' erection against his leg.

But Louis' a bit quicker and pushes Nick against the wall again, "Don't look at my fucking boner."

Louis pushes himself into Nick again and accidentally elbows him in the crotch. "Shit, Louis," Nick gasps, putting his weight over Louis' shoulders.

"Bet you've never been elboned before." 

"Shut _up_ ," Nick whines.

"Mmmm, make me," Louis whispers while running the heel of his palm over the bulge in Nick's pants. The short pain of being elbowed hadn't made him any less aroused by Louis’ feistiness and the shadowed hollows of his cheeks. He’s not sure he’s ever been so turned on.

Nick leans down and pulls Louis up on his toes to press their mouths together. Louis licks into his mouth with surprising ease, flicking his tongue against Nick’s and grinding himself into the front of Nick's jeans.

"Didn't get to finish this last time," Louis whispers, low in his throat.

"You stuck a USB stick up your ah-arse and then knocked me out."

Louis leans back a bit, "I panicked!"

“Why did you throw a damn encyclopedia at me?” Nick asks, flabbergasted. 

Louis has taken a full step back at this point, far enough that their only contact are Nick’s fingers playing at his waist, running right over the waistband of his dark skinny jeans, which are practically jeggings. “I was scared!”

“What were you going to do? Run out, totally naked, before I got back? Let me fuck you with a USB stick up your arse?” Nick leans farther down on the wall so that he’s almost the same height as Louis and plants his feet between Louis’, one between his legs and the other on the outside.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, really.” the boy shrugs. “Now let’s stop talking about it, there are better things we could be doing.” 

“You’re a rubbish criminal. ‘Hadn’t thought that far ahead’, Christ.”

Louis leans back from Nick and asks “D’you want my mouth or not?”

“Could take me back to yours, don’t trust you at mine anymore.” Nick says, although he almost contradicts himself by pulling Louis in with the hand still on his waist. 

Louis leans into his embrace and nibbles along his neck, “Don’t wanna move, Nick. Why don’t you just fuck me right here?” he emphasizes his statement by pressing down on Nick’s cock still in his jeans, Nick isn’t hard anymore, but he’s definitely still interested. “Push me up against the wall with all of the camera’s watching.” 

Nick’s powerless to stop him as Louis unbuttons his jeans and wiggles his small hand down the front of Nick’s pants. “Already got caught on camera once,” he says, stroking Nick’s cock, which is hardening up again in Louis’ palm. “I think you might be into it, having people watch you.”

Louis removes the hand working Nick’s cock and slides onto his knees. He takes Nick’s jeans down with him and nuzzles his face between the hard line of Nick’s cock and his hip. Even through his damp pants Nick can feel Louis’ hot breath as he whispers, “You’d love coming into work and knowing all your coworkers saw you getting head from a wanted kid on the news, how much you enjoyed it, all caught on security tapes.”

“Haven’t gotten—” Nick stops and throws his head back against the wall as Louis finally mouths at his cock, right over the damp spot where he’d been leaking with anticipation. “Christ, your mouth. Least it’s good for something.”

Louis let’s the waistband of Nick’s pants snap against his hip when he reaches to remove them, “Oops,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

The retort Nick starts is cut off when Louis properly pulls down his pants and licks at the head of his cock, flattening his tongue over the slit. Nick takes a second to breathe, the warm, slick heat around his cock a lot to get used to, before he looks down at the boy on his knees. Louis isn't even looking back at him, his eyes are focused just to the right of Nick's hip. At least his tongue is more engaged than his eyes, but Nick wants his full attention, has never done well being anything but the center of focus. He puts a hand on the back of Louis' head, fists the little ponytail he finds there, and thrusts forward just a little bit, enough to make Louis look up at him when he has to take a little more. 

Unlike Nick's expectations, Louis doesn't pull off. He looks up at Nick and glares before doubling his efforts and swallowing Nick the rest of the way down. He chokes but doesn't pull off and Nick watches as his nostrils flare, trying to get enough air into his lungs. Louis pulls back, with a wet slurp and a deep breath, the head of Nick’s cock just resting on his bottom lip and then sucks Nick back into his mouth again, tongue licking along the underside of his cock, only stopping when Nick hits the back of his throat.

"Fuck, Louis," Nick moans as he wipes a tear from Louis' face.

The boy leans away from the contact and actually pulls fully off Nick's cock. 

He's a mess. His eyes are red and watery, he's got spit and precome dripping out of the corner of his mouth, his chest is heaving, and Nick's never seen anything more beautiful.

Nick slides down the wall and leans up against it with his legs spread out in front of him, as far as he can with his jeans still around his ankles. He pulls Louis from his knees to against his chest and holds him close, "'m so close, love. You're doing so well."

"Wasn't doing it for you," Louis croaks, his voice is completely wrecked and Nick can't stop himself from lifting Louis' head up and licking into his mouth. He groans as he tastes himself on Louis' tongue. The boy doesn't put up any resistance, just lets Nick lick along his teeth and nip at his lips.

Louis starts kissing Nick back at the same time that he starts rocking his groin against Nick's stomach, swiveling around in Nick’s embrace, searching for the best pressure. He's hard and calculated as he moves his hips in little thrusts, needing friction. Nick slides a hand between them to rub over the bulge in Louis' black jeans. There's a damp patch, and despite how much he's tried to act like he doesn't care, the state of his trousers reassures Nick that Louis is just as turned on as he is.

"Gonna pull you out?" Nick asks, tugging at the waistband of Louis' jeans with the hand that's not cupping his erection. 

“Y’d better.” Louis says, lifting his bum up so Nick can pull his jeans and boxers down, or at least he would, if Louis were wearing underwear.

“No pants?!” Nick asks, shocked, as Louis’ cock pops out of his trousers. It bobs in the air for a second, thick, pink, and wet at the tip, before Louis wraps his little hand around it, toying with his foreskin. Nick’s hands tighten where they rest on Louis’ bum at the sight. 

“Seemed like a waste of time,” he says nonchalantly, like his cock isn’t leaking against his thumb. 

Nick’s mouth is watering at the state of Louis. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink, mouth still bright and slick from sucking Nick off, he’s still in a turtleneck and his trousers are still mostly on, but he’s got his cock out and is stroking it with a quick, tight hand. Nick doesn’t have to think twice before knocking Louis’ hand out of the way to take him in his own. 

They both gasp as Nick takes his first, slow pull down Louis’ cock, Louis’ head falls back at the change of touch. Nick isn’t pulling at him as hard as he was, takes his time to pull Louis’ foreskin down past the head of his cock and then back up, covering it again. Nick watches his hand work over Louis’ cock and can barely handle the view, his hand is so much larger compared to Louis’, can wrap his fist around him much easier.

The thing is, Nick _loves_ foreskin. He likes the look of it and the feel of it, he likes pulling it up and watching it stretch down, he just thinks it’s fascinating. He has his own foreskin, but he’s always liked discovering someone else’s. He strokes Louis a few more time at differing paces and then chuckles to himself.

“Oi! Don’t laugh when my dick’s in your hand,” Louis huffs, straightening his neck back up and opening his eyes to glare at Nick.

“Soz, love. Sorry. It’s just. Well, it’s a bit like playing peekaboo, innit? Watch watch watch,” Nick says, as he directs Louis’ eye roll to his dick in Nick’s hand. Nick tightens his grip a little just under the head of Louis’ erection and pulls his fist up, stretching the foreskin up, then he flicks his eyes to Louis’ face and moves his hand back down, exposing the purpled head, “Peekaboo.”

Louis slaps a hand over his face and groans, not in a sexy way. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says as he smacks his palm against Nick’s forehead. 

Nick wheezes out a laugh but keeps working his hand over Louis. Eventually Louis placates with a sigh and reaches his hand down to Nick’s lap. 

It’s not that Nick forgot about his own dick, it’s just that he didn’t realize how hard he still was. He huffs a breath out as Louis moves his fist fast over him. Having been all but edged earlier, he’d very much like to come sometime in the near future. 

“Lou-Louis, c’m’ere,” Nick whines, making grabby hands at Louis’ waist.  
Louis seems to understand his pleas and rearranges himself again in Nick’s lap. Nick’s legs are still stretched out in front of him so Louis gets up and shucks off his jeans, leaving him naked from the waist down before settling himself back down over Nick, flat and bony knees on either side of Nick’s hips.

The way Louis sits himself down jostles their dicks together, the head of Nick’s cock catches on Louis’ balls and causes them to both moan. Nick and Louis reach for their cocks at the same time, but Nick gets there a second sooner and easily wraps a hand around both of them. With Nick’s focus on pulling them both off, he watches at Louis’ hand hesitates before he reaches their laps. 

“Hey,” Nick whispers while looking up at Louis. They make eye contact and the moonlight makes Louis’ eyes look even brighter. There’s no hesitation in his eyes though as they sparkle a bit before he reaches both of his hands down over Nick’s. His hands barely overlap over their two dicks and Nick’s hand, it makes Nick’s breath catch in his throat.

They move their hands together for a while, getting closer and closer to the edge of orgasm, dripping precome all over their hands and making the pull easier as they get wetter. Louis keeps stroking a thumb over Nick’s fingers, like he’s trying to feel what Nick is feeling, almost controlling the movement. Louis eventually lets go with one hand to brace himself on the wall behind Nick, breathing heavily as he rocks into the touch. 

“Yeah, c’mon Lou,” Nick says, thumbing over the head of Louis’ cock. Nick reaches his hand around to the cleft of Louis’ arse and puts the tiniest bit of pressure where his cheeks part.

Louis’ eyes flutter closed and his whole body tenses up. He lets out a whine high in his throat as he spills all over both of their hands and the sight makes Nick swallow, hard. Louis shifts himself up a little to relieve his knees and the last stripes of come coat the bottom of Nick’s shirt. 

Nick doesn’t even have the energy to call the boy a twat, just groans as he continues to wank them off, Louis’ cock slowly going soft in his hand. 

He feels a familiar pull behind his navel and knows he’s close. He slides the hand he’d had wrapped on Louis’ bum up to the boy’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. “I’m really close,” Nick says into his mouth as their lips move together.

Louis lets go of Nick’s dick and reaches down to fondle his balls. “Get on with it,” he whispers as he tugs ever so lightly on them.

Nick is oversensitized, with Louis still thrusting his soft dick through Nick’s fingers, and the feeling of his weight against Nick’s chest, and his breath against Nick’s face, and a hand on his balls, it’s too much for Nick to handle all at once and he quickly comes between them, all over their intertwined fingers, adding to where Louis already spilled there.

“Shit, shit,” Nick gasps, slowing down the wanking movements and using his other hand to run his clean fingers through his hair.

Louis is already off his lap and searching for his jeans in the moonlight. When he finds them he bends over, and Nick’s torn between laughing and grabbing his dick again as a moon beam illuminates the roundness of his bottocks.

“Really _is_ a full moon tonight,” Nick chuckles.

“Shut up,” Louis laughs, chucking the back of Nick’s broken phone at him.

Nick doesn’t bother standing up again, just wiggles until his pants and trousers are up over his bum again, “So, now what?” He asks from his place on the floor.

“Well, since I didn’t steal anything, and you don’t have a phone anyway, you have no reason to ring the police. So I’m going to break into the security tapes, remove our incriminating footage and be on my merry way.”

Nick pouts, but before he can say anything Louis is in his face again. “You were wonderful,” he starts with a blank face. “Best I ever had. I’ll wank to this for months to come. I’ll see your cock in my dreams, I’m sure.” Louis leans in close and Nick puckers his lips out for a kiss, only to be flicked on the nose. “See ya ‘round, Nick,” Louis trills as he disappears into the shadows.

//

One day Nick would like to walk into a nice, quiet, _empty_ flat. As much as he hates being alone, it’s a little unnerving to walk into your house with unexpected guests in. 

As Nick is toeing off his boots, a squawk of laughter echoes through his hallway, a noise Nick would recognize anywhere, followed by what sounds like Harry slapping one of his large hands over his mouth. Nick can also hear a bit of staticy moaning, which, leave it to Harry to watch porn and be entertained in a way it wasn’t intended. 

“What’s happening in there?” Nick calls.

“Harry’s getting head!” a voice that sounds suspiciously like Louis’ calls back.

Nick throws his jacket over a door knob as Harry’s full belly cackle rings through the house.

The view from his couch is a little more than shocking; Harry’s completely nude, sitting casually with a hand on his balls, and Louis’ in Nick’s favourite ratty old Dr. Dre shirt, pair of grey boxer shorts covering himself. The worst thing is that, once again, a paused still of Nick in a compromising position is on his own television. On-screen Nick’s face is green in night-vision camera quality, but he can clearly see his own hand on Louis’ bare arse, his eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure.

On-Nick’s-couch Louis looks at him with a wide, devious smile. “I was just showing Hazza here some lovely television.”

“You know, Grim,” Harry says, lifting a hand to his mouth (Nick hopes it’s not the one that was just on his ballsack), “I always thought I’d be the first one with a sex tape out. Or Niall. Or Zayn even.”

Nick whines and drops into one of his arm chairs, letting his head flop down against his knees.

He can just hear Louis whisper to Harry, “He’s quite bendy, ever seen him try to suck himself off?”

“Well there was one--” Harry starts to answer but Nick throws himself from the chair into Harry’s lap, momentarily forgetting the nakedness.

Nick puts his hand over Harry’s mouth. “That’s enough, Harold,” he says, as Harry licks between his fingers. Nick simply turns to Louis and fixes him with a stare. “Why are you in my shirt? Why are you in my flat? Why is Harold watching us have sex? Where are you jeans? Why is this happening to me. Is there alcohol?”

As soon as Nick’s done with his interrogation, Niall walks out of his kitchen, once again with a beer bottle in his hand. Nick swipes it as he walks past and takes a long pull.

“Oi,” Niall says, perching on the back of a chair.

“Harold, stop letting strange people into my house.”

“Oh, should he not let you in, then?” Louis asks, smirking as he wrings his hand in the bottom of Nick’s shirt on his torso, twisted the faded lettering there.

“You still haven’t answered my questions!” Nick wails, rolling from Harry’s lap down onto the rug on the floor. He loves this rug, he’s content to smash his face into this rug until no more of Harry’s weirdo mates are infested in his furniture. 

A pillow hits Nick on the back of the head. “Shut up, whiny. This is my favourite part,” Louis says, and seconds later the volume turns up on the TV. Nick lolls his head to the side so he can kind of see the screen out of the corner of his glasses.

On-screen Louis leans forward a bit and Nick can hear himself, clear as day, say _”Fuck, that’s so good, Louis.”_

“Nice,” Niall says.

The four of them watch as Louis starts to rock his hips into their hidden grasp between their bodies. Nick’s cock twitches in his pants at the memory of how it felt to have Louis hard and against him.

“Turn if off,” Nick mumbles into the rug.

“Turn it up?” Louis asks, “Okay.” Nick can’t see his face but knows Louis is grinning maniacally. Nick reaches around until he finds the pillow that was thrown at him and flings it at Louis. Louis squawks and something large and electric smashes next to Nick.

Nick scrambles on his hands and knees out of the way of his fallen TV while Louis and Niall jump toward the doors of the back garden, terrified and clutching onto one another. The TV is smashed on the floor, and he watches as a small fire starts from the electrical wires on the floor and the broken screen hisses out smoke.

“Thought that only happened in shows,” Niall whispers, watching the flame flicker on the floor.

Harry looks up from where he was picking at paint on his finger nails and then blinks at the fire. He leisurely strolls into the kitchen and comes back out with a jug of water. He turns his back to the other three, and shrugs as he slowly pours the water over the fire, not seeming to worry about the wires that are still live and connected to the wall. When the jug is empty he tosses it aside, picks up a pair of jeans from the floor, Nick assumes they are Louis’ since they stop halfway down Harry’s shins, and shimmies them up around his waist before turning to the lads.

“Uh,” they all say at once.

Harry scratches behind his ear and the motion draws Nick’s eye to just beyond his elbow. There is a door to a safe where his TV used to sit, he definitely didn’t have it installed, and there wasn’t a safe there when he moved in.

“What the bleeding Christ is that?” Nick asks, voice pitched higher than usual.

“Looks like a safe?” Harry suggests, putting his hands behind his back.

“Thanks, Harry,” groans Nick, “I meant, how did a bloomin’ safe get into my wall?”

He looks to Louis and Niall, who are still clutching each other around the middle, eyes wide and clueless, and then to Harry, who looks rather sheepish. 

“Harold…” Nick starts. 

Harry sways himself back and forth before sighing and walking over to the safe. He punches a couple of numbers in and then twists the handle on it. The safe beeps and clicks open. Nick, Louis, and Niall slowly creep toward the safe to see what’s inside while Harry steps back and hangs his head, avoiding eye contact. Nick, being the tallest, and also the owner of the damn flat, has the best view inside. Sitting inside the safe, collecting a bit of dust are a few frames, painted canvases, and a single brown duffle bag.

When Nick turns around Harry is biting his lip and still swaying slightly. Before he even opens his mouth, Harry speaks. “I’m… kind of an art thief?” He phrases it like a question, like he’s not sure if it’s the answer Nick is looking for. “I. Why don’t we all sit down?” 

Louis and Niall curl up on one end of the couch together but Nick is more reluctant to sit down. He just leans against the arm of the couch and gestures for Harry to continue.

“So, I steal works of art. Only a few of them and only sometimes. Just when I think they deserve better homes, places that they can be truly admired.”

Niall gasps, “Didn’t think you had it in ya, mate.”

“Okay, that’s the kindest explanation for thievery I’ve ever heard!” Louis exclaims, “I just do it because I’m not good at anything else.”

“Aw Lou, you’re plenty good at other stuff!” Harry says, concern written across his face.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s lovely,” Nick says dryly. “Why’ve you got a stolen art safe in _my_ flat?”

“Well,” Harry pulls on his bottom lip, “I was almost caught in France a few years ago so I had to sell my London house and basically erase myself from France. You’ve always been so generous with sharing your space I figured it would be the most convenient. So I had it installed here one night while you were out, back when you were seeing that model boy.”

Niall scoffs, “Which one.”

Nick punches Niall in the arm and fixes Harry with a mean stare. “You mean that trip you went on with your parents was actually a heist? I sent them travel books for weeks!” Nick scrubs a hand over his face, “Anne was so nice about it too,” he mumbles miserably.

“Yeah, she was well confused but thought you were just trying to persuade her to go on holiday to Paris.”

Nick looks up at Harry again, “I told her to have a nice trip and bring me back a souvenir!”

“She did though, didn’t she?”

“It was an eiffel tower made of cocks, Harold.”

Harry throws his hands up, “She didn’t go to France! She went south somewhere, thought it was funny.” 

Louis puts his hand on Nick’s bicep and toys with the seam of his sleeve, “You’re off-topic a little, babe.”

Nick doesn’t miss the endearment but doesn’t comment either, unlike Niall, who has procured a bag of popcorn from somewhere. “Babe?” he asks, mouth full of food.

“That’s what this is all about, you know,” Harry says, staring intently at Louis. 

Nick, for the second time in two weeks, is speechless. Harry almost whispers his explanation, “You’ve been so lonely, Nick. I just wanted you to have a chance at love. I thought Louis would be good for you.”

Nick looks from Harry, who is so sincere it’s hard to watch, to Louis, whose brow is furrowed, to Niall, who is smirking around the hand shovelling popcorn into his mouth. 

“What?” Nick and Louis ask in unison. 

Eventually Nick sits down properly on the couch too, knees pulled up to his chest, and listens intently with the boys as Harry explains how he had heard Louis’ name while he was in Paris. How he wanted to know the boy who snuck into the Louvre and turned the Mona Lisa painting upside down everyday for four days and never got caught. Harry explains how intrigued he was when he discovered Louis was the one who broke into the van Gogh museum in Amsterdam and replaced all eight of the sad man’s self-portraits with paintings of his own face and various body parts.

“I thought he would be perfect for you, Nick, after I learned that,” Harry says. “It was too ironic not to be a match made in heaven, a bored art curator and a silly art thief. I’ve never heard of someone better to keep you on your toes, Grim.”

Louis preens.

“So how did you get him here?” Nick inquires.

“That part was easy, I sent him a note about the painting arrivals. I didn’t have to do anything there. I also maybe mentioned when you were DJing, just in case he wanted to scope you out beforehand.”

“How did you find me anyway?” Louis asks. “I wasn’t upset to get the note, it was the only lead I had in weeks, but I was supposed to be in hiding.”

Harry chuckles, “You’re rather easy to find, Louis. You don’t really keep a low profile, just change your name when you change cities.”

Louis simply shrugs in response.

“The kind of funny part is that the real paintings never made it to the gallery,” Harry giggles.

Nick and Louis both jump at this, “What?”

“The ones you helped bring in, Nick, are fakes. Really convincing recreations.”

Louis gasps and pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing frantically. He only stops when Harry starts talking again, “Yes, Louis. The one you stole was a fake. Hope your track is covered enough that whoever you sold it to can’t find you again and demand their money back.”

Louis nearly drops his phone but shakes his head, “It’s fine.”

Something clicks with Nick, “Wait, which painting did you steal, Louis?”

Eyes wide, Louis explains, “I took a small one off the wall. After I got the security tape I went back to say goodbye properly but you were gone. The painting was right there and I figured a tiny one wouldn’t go missing as easily as a big one at that point. Figured it was a waste of a trip if I left with nothing. Didn’t want to get you into too much trouble.” he adds with a wink.

Nick wants to be surprised that he hasn’t heard about any stolen paintings, but he also hasn’t been back at work since his midnight soiree with Louis and he typically avoids all calls and emails from work if he’s not scheduled to work that day. He reaches to his pocket to check his phone and remembers that it was smashed all a gallery floor and his temporary replacement doesn’t hold a charge very long. 

 

Harry frowns, “I think you left with a piece of his heart, Lou. You won a big prize, even though the painting you took wasn’t the original anyway.”

They’re all silent for a moment as everything sinks in. Then Louis startles everyone with a squeak of surprise, “I went through all that trouble to steal a painting that was _fake_? YOU MEAN I PUT A USB STICK UP ME ARSE FOR _NOTHING_?!”

“You’ve _just_ clued in?” Niall asks.

“Sor _ry_ , I was busy making sure my client can’t find me again.”

Harry flushes scarlet, worries his lips between his fingers on one hand and the cross on his necklace with the other but keeps his mouth firmly shut, then frowns deeply and mutters, “It wasn’t for nothing, Lou! It was for love!”

At this point, Niall is sobbing with laughter on the floor, clutching his nearly empty bowl of popcorn to his stomach and kicking his feet about.

“Love? My arse,” Nick huffs.

“Love _my_ arse, more like,” Louis retorts.

Harry squeals with glee and claps his hands, “See? Love!” He puts his hands in prayer formation and holds them to his cheek, grinning widely.

“But all the information was true on that USB!” Louis says.

Nick ponders this and comes to the same conclusion, “The only time it left my sight was when this one had it up his arse.” Nick thrusts his thumb toward Louis.

Harry looks at them like they’re the dumbest people he’s ever seen, at this point, they might be. “Of course all the information was the same. The only thing that changed was the paintings, which I intercepted on their way to the gallery.”

Niall picks himself up off the floor and pats Harry on the back, “You’re a crazy fecker, kid. A brilliant crazy fecker, though.”

Harry just beams even more, “Thanks, Ni.”

Louis stands up and stomps angrily back and forth in front of the couch, like a feisty toy soldier. “You sent me into a high security art gallery, to steal a painting that _wasn’t real_ all so HE could get a bloody date?” Louis asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Nick. “Unbelievable.” 

“It’s not my bloody fault!” Nick whines. “S’not like I said ‘Oh Harold, please find me a WANTED CRIMINAL so that I may have INCREDIBLE SEX with him and have to be on the LOOKOUT every bloody time.”

Louis crosses his arms high on his chest, “At least you got the incredible sex part right, I’m the best bloody shag you’ve ever had!” He yells back.

“I can’t wait for their real sex tape.” Niall chimes, unhelpfully, looking back and forth between them before passing what’s left of his popcorn over to Harry, who takes a handful while nodding solemnly.

“They do enjoy fucking in front of a camera. We could probably make it really artsy. How’d you feel about that, Grim? A dark, blurry slow motion video of you and Louis goin’ at it like rabbits.” Harry and Niall start thrusting their hips, slowly at first and then faster and faster until Harry’s momentum knocks him onto the floor. His flailing arms pull Niall down with him as they collapse into a laughing pile of fools that Nick really does hate, he swears.

“All of you need to get out, I’ve got a giant mess to clean up here,” Nick gestures to his TV. Having Louis in his life seems to be costing him a lot in gadget repairs. “And an even more giant mess to clean up up here,” he says, shaking his head about.

Harry nods and kisses Nick on the forehead, “Sorry I didn’t tell you, mate. Wanted to keep you safe. And I like the way you cube your fruit, didn’t want to give that up.”

“Your kind heart will be the death of me, Styles,” Nick says, returning Harry’s forehead peck.

Niall easily follows Harry out of the flat, laughing about thieves and heists and _true love_. Louis lingers. He and Nick putter around silently, picking up what they can of the broken TV and unplugging the necessary wires.

Nick goes to stand up from where he was bent over counting broken screen pieces and whacks his head on the safe door. If he weren’t in so much pain he might chuckle at the irony: _safe_ door.

He goes to close it when a duffle bag inside catches his eye again. “Hey Lou, what d’you reckon’s in that bag?” 

Louis hums for a moment, “Dead body?”

“Nah, it doesn’t smell that much.” Nick pulls it out of the safe and sets it on his couch. It’s got a solid weight to it, the kind you can only get when there’s lots of feather-light things stuffed together. Like the goose down pillows on Nick’s bed.

He slowly zips it open and gasps at the contents.

“Holy shit!” Louis shouts, tucking his head under Nick’s arm to get a better view. He reaches in and pulls out two hand fulls of 100 pound notes. “There’s easily a million pounds in this bag,” Louis says, rummaging around, getting a feel for how packed the bag is.

Nick sinks to his floor and stares at the bag, eyes wide. Not only is Harry harbouring secrets of his career and priceless art masterpieces, he’s also got millions of pounds to his name, and some of it is sitting visible right in front of Nick. He lifts his gaze to Louis who lets out a gentle “Oh.”

From the bag he pulls a sparkly purple dildo, long and curved with a note attached to it. Louis reads it and chuckles, shaking his head with smirk on his face before handing the note over to Nick. The note reads “you’re welcome” with a cheeky smile scribbled in Harry’s recognizable chicken scratch.

“Well?” Louis suggests, flipping the dildo in his hands. 

Nick thinks about all that’s happened: getting off with a wanted criminal in his place of work, finding out his best friend is a conniving, successful art thief, all the calls he’ll have to answer when he tells the gallery director that the paintings they’ve waited for for years are fakes, and his smashed-to-pieces TV. Then he looks at the beautiful boy wearing his own shirt in front of him, eyes bright and mischievous, to the giant ridiculous dildo made to look even bigger in his small hands. 

Nick flicks his eyes back up to Louis’, which are shining with delight and excitement, and nods, taking the boy’s hand and all but dragging him to his bedroom. Nick’s always been a sucker for cute boys and now he’s got his very own to attend to. Everything else can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry


End file.
